


Wishing Well

by AbsinthiumsPen



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Children, Be Careful What You Wish For, Childhood Memories, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthiumsPen/pseuds/AbsinthiumsPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a dark and somber winter night, Oswald makes a wish. The consequences that ensue are far from anything he could have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Footprints in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place after 2x11, the mid-season finale. Although it falls somehow into the Gobblepot category, the romantic content will be very mild and the emphasis is on friendship rather than a relationship.
> 
> It is inspired by and dedicated to Selene and her gobblepot-art-and-ask-blog. After seeing this wonderful artwork, I just started writing, I really couldn't help myself: http://gobblepot-art-and-ask-blog.tumblr.com/post/134736606993/just-imagine-oswald-become-child-cause-curse-or#notes

The first snow had left the gloomy streets of Gotham almost deserted. The first shower of delicate flakes had quickly turned into a blizzard during the day and caused the citizens to flock into their homes, not daring to set a foot on the streets again until they could be sure they would not turn into icicles instantly. This left the city eerily quiet, no one roaming the streets but a few police cars and cabs. Wandering along the sidewalk and through the glistening white parks felt more peaceful than ever and despite the cold and slippery ground beneath his feet Oswald was enjoying himself. 

At least as far as he enjoyed anything these days. Galavan’s death at his and Jim’s hands had been satisfying. And yet, it could not fill the emptiness that threatened to consume his soul. He still had to be careful, the police had not dropped his case yet, at not least on paper. Business was going slowly these days, no doubt also due to the approaching winter. 

His uneven footsteps found little purchase on the frozen path that led through one of Gotham’s more favored parks which was usually filled with harmless citizens during the day or with an assortment of shady individuals at night. It was rare to find it nearly empty, covered in a fresh white blanket, the snow reflecting the bright moonlight, creating an atmosphere that felt almost magical. Not that he believed in superstition, but he in fact did relish the unusual beauty the place emitted. Came morning, the place would undoubtedly be crowded with shrieking kids, aiming to build snowmen, getting into snowball fights and creating the most unholy chaos, thus wreaking havoc on the beautiful scenery. Oswald did not like the thought at all. It was not that he despised children, he just felt they were terribly annoying, at least in most cases. If anything, they reminded him more of his past than of any possible future, which held too many ill memories concerning other kids to feel comfortable amongst them, even as an adult. But for now, nothing disturbed the tranquility that made him feel both sorrowful and at peace. 

He did not come alone, though. He had two trusted henchmen waiting in a car not too far away, a precaution he unfortunately had to take.   
Breathing in the crisp night air, he slowly approached the impressive fountain at the center of the park. The water had ceased to flow from the mouth of the four gargoyles whose faces were staring menacingly into the dark. Despite the cold, the water was not yet frozen, just the icy edges of the pond betrayed the freeze that was slowly taking over. Studying the black water in front of him, Oswald exhaled into his gloves, wisps of vapor rising from his mouth. He did not feel particularly cold, his new coat protected him well. Besides, he had always had a high tolerance for low temperatures. Of course, he had rarely been exposed to the cold until recently. His mother had always seen to him being wrapped in at least a hand-knit scarf and a beanie. She had always been overprotective and afraid of him catching a cold, or worse, pneumonia. 

To his own surprise, he felt something hot on his cheeks. He did not even notice that he had started to cry. Silently, the warm tears traced down his skin, dispersing in the thick black fur of his collar. Instead of wiping them away, he took a deep breath. No one could see him, so what was the damage in letting his emotions show for once. 

He had taken Edward’s advice to heart. Maybe he was stronger now, less vulnerable, colder. But that did not erase the hurt he was feeling each time the memories came back. Most of the time, he was successful at suppressing them to be able to carry on with whatever he was doing. What he had learned though, was that it did him good to give in to the pain at times. He would not confide it to anyone, not even Gabe or his new friend. The tears he shed were his alone, a silent lament in honor of the person he had loved the most. 

He stepped a little closer and leaned over the brim of the well. In the pale moonlight, tiny specks of silver were visible underneath the surface of the dark water. Strollers frequently threw coins into the well, wishing for whatever their hearts desired. Oswald could see the sad smirk in his reflection. What a waste of money, but in a way, a sweet gesture. And if it gave a person hope, maybe it was worth a penny. As he leaned back, he noticed a small coin lying just a few steps away from him, half buried in the snow. He would not have seen it had it not been for its silvery sheen. Huffing slightly, he picked it up and brushed off the traces of powdery snow. 

“What a coincidence…”   
He chuckled to himself and examined the tiny piece of metal. If there was anything he could use at the current time, it was hope. Hope for the aching void in his heart to be filled, for his life to get back on track. 

When he threw the coin into the water, he did not vocalize his wish. Instead he thought about what he wished for, and somehow, he ended up asking for a second chance. Not to start his life anew, but to come to terms with his sad memories and to get closure at the hands of the people he still cared about, precious few they were. Working together with Jim had given him hope for their peculiar friendship. He only wished for the detective to see the person behind the crime boss. Whished for him to see him as another human being, worthy of his affection, as desperate as it might seem.   
Sure, another person he cared about also meant another weakness. But strong and anything but helpless people such as Edward or Jim were a different matter. Oswald had to admit that he could not bear to live without anyone who cared about him. Maybe it was just human. He wanted to be strong, hard and as invulnerable as possible, but he had accepted that it did not mean he had to be heartless and unfeeling. No matter his unspeakable deeds and inclination to heinous crime, he was still a man. He never wanted to become a monster, and he was convinced that he had not yet become one, despite what some people might think of him. As a king, he wanted to be just, and not an intolerable tyrant. If he had to justify an occasional act of mercy or kindness amongst all the dark deeds, he could always say it was good for business. A truth he had learned long time ago, not only from the books, but first hand from the old Dons. 

Without companions who reminded him of his humanity, he was afraid he might give in to the darkness that threatened to consume him, to lose all sense of what it meant to be a man with a shred of honor and at least the remnants of a conscience. It bothered him less than he felt it should, but that was exactly what he was afraid of. So he swore to himself to never become the man not even his mother could love, a person, he thought no one could possibly love. 

Those thoughts loomed over him like an ominous dark cloud as he turned away from the well and advanced his way back to where he knew his men were waiting. Just as he had taken a few steps, he felt a strong breeze tearing at his coat. He looked up into the sky, but could not spot any clouds. So the blizzard wasn’t back, thank goodness. Another gust of wind made him look around, more than a little confused. The third gust caused the snow around him to disperse, until he could feel the wind spiraling around him, ruffling his hair and fur collar. Suddenly anxious, he tried to get away from the spot, but it felt as if his feet were bolted to the ground. Soon, he could see nothing but a wall of rapidly moving snow all around him. He did not even feel particularly cold, panic was taking over, but before he could commence to scream for help, a bright flash of light distorted his vision. 

 

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he felt terribly cold. The rays of the sun were warm and the crisp morning air was still, so it could have been worse. But why the hell was he still here? What happened? Why did his men leave without him? And what on earth caused him to black out? 

Slowly, he sat up and looked around. The streets were moderately crowded now, the snowy blanket that covered the park was still intact and shimmering and glittering in the most beautiful hues. Carefully, he rose to his feet. Irritated, he noticed that the ground was still surprisingly close. And where was his coat? What was he wearing anyways? Panicking again, he looked at his clothes. He was wearing something that should not even exist anymore as far as he could tell. His shoes were incredibly small and just like some padded winter footwear his mother had bought him when he was in elementary school. His striped grey and white sweater was cozy, but unfortunately not nearly warm enough for the weather.   
Most importantly though, he knew this sweater. His mother had knitted it for him a good twenty years ago. It had been damaged irreparably when he got roughed up by some bullies, he remembered. He had always lamented the loss of the sweater. But that should be impossible. These clothes did not exist any longer, and short as he was, he had not been this small for at least… twenty years.   
Eyes wide in terror, he turned and ran towards the well. Unfortunately, he slipped on the frozen snow at his feet and fell hard on the cold ground. He started shivering badly, looking around frantically for something that might aid him. His pockets were empty, no phone, no wallet, nothing. Only a handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it. Also an item he had lost a long time ago. It all didn’t make sense. This had to be a nightmare. He struggled to get up and realized that his right knee was scraped and bled a little. It hurt, but the cold was numbing the feeling and the flow of blood quickly ceased. In disbelief, he shook his head. With slow and unsteady steps he approached the well and looked at his reflection. 

A silent gasp escaped him. Looking back at him, he saw a small boy, not older than eight, the spitting image of himself all that time ago.

“Hey! Young man!”

Oswald recognized the voice immediately. Not without hesitation, he turned towards it. Just a few meters away stood Jim, his face concerned.

“Where are your parents?”

Overwhelmed by the absurd situation, Oswald could do nothing but stare at the detective.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Look, I’m a police man.”  
He flashed his badge and smiled before closing the distance between them. Trembling, both because of the cold and out of sheer panic, Oswald just hugged himself and gaped at the man in front of him.  
Cautiously, Jim crouched down and gently picked him up, holding him tight, wearing a friendly, but stern expression.

“J-Jim?”   
Oswald blinked and tried to calm his breath. It all did not make sense. There was no way this was happening.

“How do you know my name?” Jim inquired, regarding the shivering boy with a slight frown.

“I-I… you don’t recognize me, do you?”   
His voice felt alien to him, too high pitched and unfamiliar.

“Have we met before?”   
Jim was obviously trying to make sense of it.   
“Wait, you can tell me in the car. You are freezing!”

Without another word, he carried Oswald out of the park and to his car. At the top stood a lone paper cup. So it had been a coincidence that the detective had stopped and spotted him. He put the still shivering boy on the driver’s seat, but did not yet get in the car himself.

“You wait here, I’ll get you a hot cocoa.”

“No!” Oswald coughed a little. Whether that was out of embarrassment or because he was getting a cold, he could not tell.   
“C-can you get some tea instead?”

Jim smiled and chuckled.   
“Sure, no use buying a drink you don’t like, I guess.”

Before Oswald could somehow get his thoughts into order, Jim was already back. He sat down on the driver’s seat and put the cup of tea into the boy’s still cold hands.

“There you go. Now tell me, how did you end up there? Did you get lost? Or did you run away? You can trust me. You don’t look like a street kid to me.”   
The tone in his voice was soft and caring. A tone he had never addressed Oswald with. Except once. When he had called him by his first name for the first time, when he tried to persuade him not to shoot Galavan. 

“N-no, I’m not. But I-I trust you. I didn’t run away. Oh god, this is madness…”   
At least his intellect did not turn into that of a child. He was more than grateful for that.   
“I went to the well, made a wish and… oh god.”

The choice of words seemed to irritate Jim.   
“Alone? Or with your parents?”

“Alone… I don’t have any parents left… I-”   
His voice broke, he wanted to tell Jim who he was, but he suddenly felt tears welling up and he choked on the words.

“It’s okay, take your time. You’re still shivering.”   
Jim took his scarf off and carefully wrapped it around Oswald’s neck. The car’s heating was turned on, so he slowly felt the warmth crawl back into his frozen limbs. Only his flushed hands and nose betrayed his slight hypothermia. Sniffing, he took a sip of his tea. The hot beverage felt heavenly in his mouth and belly and he rested his head on the back of the seat. 

“You don’t talk like a street kid, either. My guess is that you come from a wealthier background, am I right? You must have a guardian, then.”

“Huh? No. I don’t.”   
He had serious trouble explaining his situation to the man next to him. It sounded so crazy, he had a hard time believing it himself.

“Well, then who takes care of you?”

Oswald chuckled and finally met Jim’s eyes.  
“I take care of myself, silly. But you are correct in your assumption that I do not live on the streets. Far from it, actually. Do I really not remind you of someone you know?”   
As far as his sniveling allowed him, he intentionally chose a very sophisticated way of talking that was as far from a child’s as possible.

Sipping his now cold cup of coffee, Jim frowned.  
“You do, come to think of it. But as far as I can tell, he has no family left that I know of.”

The comment made Oswald clench his teeth. Of course, it made sense Jim was thinking about a possible relative of his. He wanted to answer, but instead, his tears kept him from uttering any coherent words. It seemed as if his emotions had also turned as fragile and volatile as the one’s of his eight year old self.

“I don’t mean to pry, but you said you had no parents? I’m really sorry to hear that. I can empathize. My dad died when I was only a little older than you are now.”  
With big watery eyes, Oswald looked at Jim. He hadn’t known that. Came to think it, he knew that the lawyer named Gordon had died a long time ago, but he had hardly put any further thought into the matter.

“My mother… she died in front of me. He killed her, Jim.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to look at Oswald with wide eyes.  
“Come again?”   
He blinked, trying to figure out what was happening. So he did remember what the criminal had told him while pointing a rifle at him.

“You heard me. Please, this is just as hard to understand for me as it is for you.”

“No way. Why did he tell you that? And what are you to him? He doesn’t seem the type to have any unknown children. Did he have siblings? Are you his nephew or something?”   
The words were frantic. Jim seemed to at least believe there was a connection.

“Of course I don’t have any children.”   
He could not suppress an eye roll.   
“Neither do I have any younger family members. Never had. I’ve always been the little fledgling.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me… But, you can’t be…”

“Well, apparently I can. Don’t know how or why. But in case you’re wondering. Let me tell you something that only I can know, but I would not tell a child. I beat Galavan with a baseball bat until he was half dead. Then you put a bullet in his chest. After that, I shoved my umbrella down his throat.”   
Oswald made a pause to let the information sink in. Jim had gone completely silent, his eyes still wide.   
“Now please don’t tell me you think an eight year old could be such a good actor as to talking about something like that in this manner. Apart from the fact, that it would be highly unlikely for a child to acquire such information in the first place.”

Swallowing hard, Jim clenched the steering wheel with his left hand and stared at Oswald completely stunned.  
“Holy shit, Oswald… it is you…”


	2. A crumb of Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this adorable piece of artwork: http://gobblepot-art-and-ask-blog.tumblr.com/post/134927667533/i-dont-know-what-im-doing-w#notes

Instead of heading to the precinct, Jim decided to drive back to Leslie’s apartment. Even though he could hardly believe what had happened to Oswald, he felt the need to take care of him until they figured out a way to turn him back into his older self. In fact, he had little choice in the matter. The tiny crime boss could not head home to his mansion, now that he was easy prey to anyone who questioned his authority. Hence, the only other person left to take care of the situation was probably Nygma, but first he had to make sure Oswald warmed up and calmed down a little. The small boy had fallen asleep soon after finishing his tea. He looked exhausted and Jim could not help but to feel sorry for him. It was difficult to imagine the little human was actually the new king of Gotham’s underworld and the same person who he had witnessed beating another man almost to death about a week ago. He looked too fragile and innocent in this state, far from anything remotely vicious or threatening. The tiny hands were clutching Jim’s scarf as if it was a plush animal that gave him some sense of comfort. 

When they reached the building Leslie’s apartment was situated in, Jim tried his best not to wake him. Treading carefully, he managed to carry him up the stairs, the boy softly snoring in his embrace. He knew it was Leslie’s late shift today, actually he was counting on it. Oswald might have caught a cold, and hypothermia was nothing to be trifled with either. His knee also had to be cleaned up. It was odd that the first thing little Oswald seemed to have done was to hurt his otherwise damaged leg.  
Gently, he lay the boy down on the sofa, tucking him into a soft blanket.

“Jim? Did you forget something?”  
Leslie held a mug in one hand and a newspaper in the other. She looked slightly confused until Jim stepped out of the way so she could see the little sleeping boy.

“I found him in Grant Park as I was getting some coffee. He’s severely hypothermic.”

With a frown, Leslie put down her mug and newspaper on the coffee table and knelt in front of the boy.  
“Why didn’t you bring him to a hospital?”

“About that… it’s complicated.” Jim took a deep breath and smiled apologetically.

“Don’t tell me he’s a fugitive from the mob. He’s a little young for that.”  
Carefully, she put her palm on Oswald’s forehead.  
“He’s developing a fever.”

“You’d be surprised…” Jim cleared his throat and got up to fill a glass of with tab water.  
“He sort of is… can you take a look at him? He also scraped his knee.”

While Leslie got the first aid kit from the bathroom, he could hear her mumbling something about how the city was truly going to the dogs.

The sound of the water glass touching the surface of the table finally woke Oswald.

“Jim? Thank goodness it’s you… I had the most horrible dream, I-“ He stopped himself and blinked drowsily. “It was no dream… right?”

The detective sighed and shook his head.  
“I’m sorry.”  
He could see tears welling up in the boy’s eyes and he turned to face the sofa’s backrest to avoid anyone seeing him cry. It was obvious that although Oswald still had the mind of an adult, he was subjected to the deep and volatile emotions of his younger self.

“Oh good, he’s awake.”  
Leslie knelt down again and gently stroked the boy’s dark hair.  
“I need to take care of your leg and check your temperature. Is that okay?”

With a petty growl that sounded more like a whimper than anything else, Oswald wiped his eyes on Jim’s scarf and turned around, eyeing Leslie suspiciously.

“My name is Leslie. I’m a doctor.”  
Her warm smile did not help much to soften the boy’s reserve.  
“What’s yours?”

Oswald met Jim’s eyes and they looked at each other, trying to figure out whether to tell the truth or craft some white lie.  
“Peter. The name’s Peter.”  
In the end, it was Oswald who chose to keep the truth a secret for the time being.

A little tense, Jim nodded.  
“He’s a relative of Cobblepot. That’s why we can’t bring him to a hospital. Someone was after him.”  
The delivery was flawless, and yet, he felt horrible about lying to her.

“That makes sense. He does resemble him. With the raven hair and the bright eyes.”  
The fact that she did not mention his nose or bird like appearance seemed to have a positive effect on the boy. His cool gaze softened a little and he fought his way out of the blanket to show her his scratched knee.

“I slipped when I was running from them.”

“Why don’t you make some tea, while I tend to little Peter, hm?”

Jim left the two begrudgingly. He did not like the situation at all. It felt wrong to him to lie to the mother of his child to be about another child, about anything really. Waiting for the water to boil, he observed them silently. In a peculiar way, Oswald looked adorable, with his puffy red cheeks and huge eyes. At the same time, he felt a pleasant tug at his heart seeing Leslie tending to a little kid. It gave him hope for the future, and picturing her as a mother was one of the most beautiful things he could imagine in this gloomy city they called home. 

 

Oswald on the other hand was less than thrilled about his condition. Sure, he was grateful for Jim’s help, even for Leslie’s, and he was sensible enough to let her help him to ensure there would be no complications. Being a child made him feel awfully powerless, a feeling he dreaded above everything else. And to make matters worse, he was desperately missing his mother. The childlike emotions left him defenseless against the memories that were resurfacing. How terrible it must be for a child to lose a parent, maybe it was not worse than losing one as an adult, but it was even harder to handle. Somehow, that reminded him of poor rich orphan boy Bruce Wayne. More than a year ago he had validated his snitching to the MCU by claiming he had pricked his conscience. That had never really been the case. He was hardly an empathetic person. Now, the thought made him unexplainably sad. 

“How old are you, Peter?”

The question made him look up. With a puzzled expression he blinked, trying to judge a realistic age.  
“Eight, ma’am.”

“You can call me Leslie, no reason for formalities, sweetheart.”  
She was incredibly friendly, and it seemed honest to him. He huffed remembering her comment about him being a sociopath. Although he knew she was right to a certain extent, he did not like to think about himself in that way. His sociopathic behavior stemmed from how people had always mistreated him, not from a vile disposition. 

“Are you sure? You look younger.”

“I’ve always been small for my age.” 

He was relieved when Jim arrived with a steaming cup of tea. Taking it into his hands, he inhaled the aromatic scent. At least, they had no objections to him drinking a caffeinated beverage. Oh how he would miss wine and liquor…

He winced when Leslie cleaned his knee and dabbed disinfectant on the wound. The scratches were superficial, but he still had trouble moving his leg properly. Since he had fallen right after waking up, he could not tell whether that sprang from the fresh injury or if his old one translated into his childhood self.

“I need to head to work, I’ll be back as soon as possible, promise.”

Oswald did not want Jim to leave. He felt anything but comfortable alone with Leslie. With sad eyes, he nodded and wished him a pleasant day, despite the fact that he knew work at the GCPD was rarely pleasant. Unless for Edward, he thought to himself. Examining corpses must have been a blast, according to his friend. He on the other hand preferred to be done with corpses before they turned cold. The thought made him chuckle, what a creepy child he must be, at least if someone knew what went on in his head.

“What’s so funny?” Leslie was smiling while checking his temperature.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just ticklish.”

She giggled softly and promised to be careful not to tickle him again.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, Leslie had been a wonderful nurse. She was so caring and friendly that Oswald almost felt a little bad about having certain resentments towards her. The majority of the day, he spent sleeping. When Jim came home later, he was watching TV and nursing his running nose with a box of paper tissues Leslie had provided. His fever had not risen, it looked as if he had caught a little cold, but nothing too serious.

“Evening. Brought you dinner.”  
Jim was smiling a little uncomfortably as he put paper bag on the table, right under Oswald’s nose.  
“I thought everyone likes burgers. And I figured you might need some comfort food.”

That was one of the nicest things Jim had ever done for him, he decided. Sure, it was nothing like sparing his life or killing Galavan, but the gesture counted nonetheless. He was not particularly fond of burgers, though. But he liked them well enough to be grateful. Besides, he felt terribly hungry.

“Thank you, old friend.”  
He could not help but to beam at the detective and gingerly open the bag to reveal the savory treat. 

“You know, your condition gives the term ‘old friend’ an entirely new meaning.”

Was he joking with him? That was unfamiliar, but Oswald had to admit it felt nice.  
“I guess so.”  
He chuckled and dug in. The burger tasted way better than he expected. Had his taste buds regressed, too? That would have been a shame. He prided himself on an exquisite palette.

“How are you feeling? Lee said you had a slight fever.”

And caring, too… wasn’t he a lucky fellow… at least he would be, had it not been for this pesky little detail of him being eight years old again.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He swallowed a bite and cleared his throat. “Have you told Nygma?”

“Hm? No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I’m glad you breach the subject. We need a plan. You can stay here for a while, but we have to figure out a way to get you back to normal.” 

Before Oswald could answer, Jim sat down next to him, greeting him with a warm smile.

“I thought, we could go back to the well and examine the surroundings.”  
He spoke with half a mouth full and wanted to add something, but had to turn his attention back on the food, since some of the sauce threatened to spill onto the table.  
“Oh, sorry.”  
Eating a burger with such a small mouth and his tiny hands proved to be extremely difficult. He tried his best not to think about the sauce that must cover his cheeks.

“Don’t worry.”  
Jim seemed quite amused by Oswald’s struggle. Chuckling, he took a tissue out of the box and gently wiped the sauce from the boy’s cheeks.

“I’m not a baby, James.”  
Annoyed with him, he frowned. He was less than amused and felt how his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh, I can see that…”  
Still chuckling, Jim put down the tissue and watched Oswald’s battle with the burger.  
“Going back to the well sounds to be a solid plan. We’ll go tomorrow, if your fever allows it. It’s my day off.”

The news lifted Oswald’s spirits considerably. He was easily excited with his childlike emotions, and he did like spending time with his reluctant friend.  
“Is Leslie coming, too?”

“Do you want her to? I could ask her to finish earlier…”

“No, no! It’s fine. I was just wondering.” Time alone with Jim had a nice ring to it, he had to confess.  
The man did not look entirely convinced, but made no further comment.

 

It had started snowing again, and the citizens of Gotham had trouble managing the chaos that roamed the streets. When Leslie called to say it would be impossible to get home without getting stuck at the first crossing, Jim had to rearrange his plans for the evening. He was exhausted, crime hardly ceased just because the city’s traffic had come to a standstill. Only with a lot of luck had he managed to drive home at all. They had been less fortunate on their way to a crime scene. The walk their and back through the icy cold had been tiresome. But Oswald would not have any of it, he had spent the day sleeping, after all. The prospect of spending time with a friend and the newfound energy resulted in him having very little consideration for Jim’s weariness. 

He had never been particularly fond of card games, but Oswald insisted on playing poker. It had to be poker, he explained, because the fun in this type of games was not relying on luck, but to trick the opponent and bluff and deceive to perfection. Jim was hopeless, while Oswald’s poker face was impeccable, even as a child. The fact that the criminal looked utterly adorable trying to act all serious and cunning, compensated Jim for being tricked and played for what seemed hours. He had stopped considering the absurdity of the situation and decided to just roll with it and take things as they were. Spending time with little Oswald had proven surprisingly enjoyable. Once the constant reminder of him being a dangerous suspect outside of the law was stripped away, he had little reason to be stubborn and hostile. Moreover, he felt responsible for him and could not bear to see him suffer. Not in this state. The suffering of the adult Oswald had been tough to witness, but thinking about it now, it almost broke his heart.

When the boy finally grew tired, Jim provided him with the smallest t-shirt he could find amongst the clothes he kept at Leslie’s. It was still way too big, but it could pass for a make-shift night gown. Oswald seemed pleased enough as Jim tucked him in, the sofa once again serving as a bed. 

Lying down in his own bed, he went out like a light, the day having been seriously demanding.  
He had fallen into a deep slumber, when the sound of a soft sobbing woke him up. Startled, it took him a while to locate its source until he remembered the little Oswald in the adjacent parlor. With a low sigh, he rose to his feet and made his way through the small apartment. The sobbing ceased, concluding in a slight gasp. The boy must have heard his footsteps.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m good. Just go… please.”  
His voice was weak and croaky. It was the last confirmation Jim needed to know he was anything but alright. A little hesitant, he gently stroked the soft black hair. Oswald had turned away, but now he craned his neck to look at him. Even in the dim light, his eyes looked puffy and red-rimmed. Without a word, Jim pressed a tissue into his hand. The box was almost empty, the tears and cold having taken their toll on the boy. He mouthed a thanks and softly blew his nose before redirecting his gaze on Jim.

“I know, I just told you to go, but… could you stay for a while?”

The look in his eyes made it impossible to deny his request. Jim sat down at the remaining space of the sofa next to Oswald, who snuggled up to him, his snuffling slowly ceasing and his breathing becoming more calm and even. When he was sure, the boy had fallen asleep, Jim readjusted the blanket. Going back to his own bed was out of the question. He held Oswald in a comforting embrace, somberly watching the white flakes dancing in front of the window, until sleep soon reclaimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet again, please take a look at this beautiful work:  
> http://gobblepot-art-and-ask-blog.tumblr.com/post/135752789143/night-night-and-sweet-dreams-sweet-penguins-3#notes


	3. A Gleam of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas fellow Gothamites! ♥

Jim Gordon’s cooking skills covered an exceptionally wide range, all the way from scrambled eggs over sandwiches to pancakes. Not that there was anything between those three, but maybe bacon or fried eggs, if he got lucky and managed not to set the kitchen on fire. Out of laziness and the resulting necessity, his pancakes were actually quite good. He had originally planned to get breakfast on the way to Grant Park, but since snow was piling up outside and few cars attempted to plow through the streets. To make sure little Oswald could regain his strength, the safe thing to do was to take care of breakfast himself. Despite his best efforts, Jim still had trouble coping with the situation. 

The oddity of the transformation itself, he had come to terms with. He knew there was no way he could understand or belief what had happened, so he just accepted the criminal’s condition without much further thought. What bugged him to a much greater extent, was that he was now taking care of the Penguin. He knew he was still the same man he had struggled with during all these months, and befriending him had always seemed impossible due to Jim feeling it would equal a compromise that basically made him as corrupt as the majority of his colleagues. He could hardly be friends with the most notorious crime boss of Gotham, since it would mean to turn a blind eye on most of his deeds. 

Now that he had to spend time with him and they somehow got along, things quickly changed. It was almost uncomfortably easy to make friends with him. Sure, Oswald welcomed his change of mannerism with open arms, but Jim was surprised of how quickly his own resolve softened.  
The sound of coughing woke him from his thoughts and he turned to face the sofa that accommodated the small Oswald. He was waking up, but before he could rise from his blanket, he had to spend a few minutes taking care of his running nose and aching throat. 

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Jim inquired gently after the coughing had ceased.

 

Oswald opened his mouth to greet him with a sarcastic comment, but soon thought otherwise as he noticed than Jim had been making breakfast. He chuckled to himself, by any means, this was no scenario he would have ever deemed possible. Becoming a child again was neither though. His throat and nose felt better now that the remnants of the night were gone. He despised having a cold, but at least someone cared for him. With his mother gone, that was no certainty anymore. With a sigh, he got up. Starting the day with grieving was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’m okay, thank you. Are those… pancakes?”

“Last time I checked…” Jim shrugged and smiled.

Excited, Oswald approached him and tried to get a better look, which proved difficult due to his height. Eventually, he gave up, sat down at the kitchen table and started nursing the orange juice Jim had provided in advance.

“Thank you for doing all this. I know we talked about not owing each other favors anymore, but… I owe you, really.”  
He was aware of his words sounding way too mature for a child, but again it helped him to feel a little more like himself.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry. I didn’t go out of my way, yet. I just picked you up, let you sleep on my couch and made pancakes.”  
Carefully, he piled the pancakes on two plates and put them on the table alongside with butter and syrup. 

“Still, I’m grateful.” Oswald regarded the pancakes a little lost in thought.

“Is there something wrong with them?”

“Oh, no, they are just fine, I bet.”  
He smiled and began to eat. They looked fine, and tasted just as agreeable. What had made him stop, was that he had to take a moment to relish the fact that they were made by Jim, for him, just like for a good friend.

 

He was relieved to see Oswald in relatively good health again. Just when he started on his pancakes, however, the doorbell rang. Frowning, he rose and went to open the front door. He doubted that the mailman made his way through the blizzard and Leslie had keys. Just to make sure, he checked that his holster was still underneath his coat, where he had placed it about a day before.  
The tall figure that was approaching him with heavy footsteps was familiar and hopefully good news.

“Morning, detective.” Gabe’s expression was just as grumpy as ever, but he seemed friendly enough to make Jim feel relatively at ease.

“Morning. How can I help?” His smile was tight, obviously the mobster’s visit was not a casual one. 

“Have you seen the boss lately? He’s missing, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but no. No trace of him.”  
As he said the words, he felt something small making an effort to shove him aside.

“Gabe!”  
Tiny Oswald hardly reached up to Gabe’s thigh, it looked both ridiculous and adorable. Jim took a step back. It was too late to hide the boy now, anyway.

It took Gabe a while until he grasped who was standing in front of him. Jim was surprised that he understood it at all.  
“Boss…? What happened to you?” 

“Oh, thank goodness you recognize me. I’m not sure either, but I won’t stay like this for long, I assure you. I’ll be back in no time. Until then, you tell everyone who needs to know, that I’m out of town for a few days and can’t come back until the weather has improved.”  
The businesslike and stern fashion in which Oswald addressed his underling while craning his neck to look up to him, caused Jim to smile, and it did not take long until even Gabe’s lips curled up.

“What’s so funny? Have you understood my order?”  
Oswald was fuming. It was more than obvious why the two other men were smiling, and it made him furious.

“I understood it alright, boss. Anything else?” Most likely, Gabe wanted to get away from his tiny king as possible before he burst into laughter.

“Yes. How much money do you have on you?”

“About half a grand, maybe.”

The beckoning gesture which greeted him, let Gabe loose his smile as quickly as it had appeared. Jim on the other hand, had trouble suppressing a chuckle.  
“Come on. My pancakes are getting cold.”  
The snarling tone in Oswald’s high pitched voice was too much for Jim and he discreetly backed away in hope his amusement was not too obvious.

“Alright, boss. No need to get angry.” Gabe drew a packet of money out of his coat pocket and handed it to the boy.

“Splendid. Don’t worry, if things go according to plan, I’ll double your pay for this month.”

Gabe was probably too irritated to find it as funny as Jim did, so he just nodded and waited for Oswald to dismiss him.

“You may go. Thank you for not making a fuss.”

Gabe was gone just seconds later. With a heavy sigh, Oswald closed the door behind him and joined Jim at the table.

“You're lucky he believed you.”

“Well, he’s simple, and loyal. He knows me well and where he lacks smarts, he makes up for it with brawn and intuition. I guess that’s why he recognized me.”  
The boy shrugged dismissively.

“What do you want with all that money?”  
Why Gabe was carrying so much in the very first place, Jim did not ask. It was most likely common practice for one of Oswald’s henchmen.

“I don’t like not having any on me. And you’ll never know. You might have noticed that I have neither phone, nor credit card or papers anymore. Five hundred dollars hardly put me at ease, Jim, but it’s a start.”

Smiling, he shook his head. In any other case, he would have felt uncomfortable being so close to mob business, but the absurdity of the situation made it impossible for him to keep a straight face.

“I know one of the root components of humor is contradiction. But would you please refrain from laughing at my expense?” Oswald’s tone was scathing and tiny hands were curling around his cutlery. His nostrils flared as he tried not to give in to his anger.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The ferocity of the little man’s reaction stopped Jim’s chuckling immediately. He felt bad about laughing in this situation, but it was just too hard not to.  
“It’s not you, it’s like you said, the contradiction. Please don’t be mad.” 

That seemed to calm Oswald down a little. His grip on the cutlery eased and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.  
“Yes… I get that. And trust me, I’d find it hilarious, too… if it didn’t affect me.”

“How do you think Gabe found you?”

Jim was lamenting not having asked him, so he hoped Oswald could provide an answer.

“Well, he knows who I would go to in case of an emergency. If neither Gabe nor Zsasz know where I am, I’m most likely at Nygma’s or yours. And Gabe is smarter than he looks at times, making the connection between your empty apartment and the fact that you like to stay with your girlfriend, must have led him here.”

The answer was indeed sufficient. It was no secret where Leslie lived or that they were a couple, after all.  
“Do you feel up to walking to the park today? I don’t think we can take the car and the subway must be overcrowded, if it’s running at all.”

While chewing on a piece of pancake, Oswald regarded the chaos outside the window.  
“I think so, but I’m afraid we’d have to stop by at a store that sells coats in my size. Unless that is, you want to make a point by proving my moniker is even more fitting than expected.”

Jim tried to decide whether that was supposed to be a joke he was allowed to laugh at or if it was sarcasm that told him not to dare laugh at the situation. It was interesting though that Oswald tried to avoid mentioning that they had to visit a clothing store for children.

“There is none on the way, but Lee told me about one only a few blocks from here. We can try to make do with scarfs and blankets to get you there. I think you would drown in any of our jackets.”

“How convenient your betrothed is expecting, I guess. Otherwise you would hardly have a clue about shops of that kind.” Although the comment was slightly sardonic, it did not sound too vile.

“Betrothed? How did you…” Jim was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. They had not told anyone. How did Oswald know?

“She’s wearing an engagement ring. As a detective you should know that’s usually a safe sign…”

 

Buying a fitting coat and other clothing items for Oswald had gone without many complications. Had the little mobster not behaved like a capricious diva, Jim might have even enjoyed the short trip. As expected, Oswald had chosen the most expensive coat he could find, the fine black wool looked a bit out of place on his tiny frame, but it suited him well enough. To Jim’s surprise, he insisted on keeping the scarf he had given him when he had rescued him from the cold. Why he would prefer Jim’s simple scarf to a more luxurious one, he had no idea.

It took them a while to reach Grant Park, with Oswald’s still aching leg and the thick blanket of snow that covered most parts of the streets and sidewalks. Although the citizens did their best to carry on with their daily routines, anyone who could afford it stayed indoors, except for a few children and their parents or teachers, who were making snowmen and having snowball fights in the parks. 

Grant Park was no exclusion. On their way to the well, they had to dodge a few snowballs and Jim had to catch Oswald as he lost his footing when a snowball caught him by surprise and grazed his arm. 

“I hate children.” He mumbled to himself and Jim patted his shoulder sympathetically.

 

The stone gargoyles were almost entirely covered by snow and looked like bizarre white lumps. Equally white stood the rest of the well. The water had completely frozen over and it was nearly impossible to make out the coins underneath.

Jim looked at Oswald with an exasperated sigh.  
“Not to sound pessimistic, but I don’t think we’ll find any clues here.”

Shaking his head furiously, the boy advanced to climb the snowy rim.  
“There must be something…” The desperate look on his face made Jim’s heart sink. For a moment, he watched Oswald furiously clawing at the snow, until he could not stand the pitiful sight anymore. He wrapped him in a hug and pulled him away from the frozen fountain.

“Stop, Oswald, it’s no use.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes, and he started shaking rather badly.  
“You need to keep looking! I don’t know what else to do! Please!”

Before he resumed his search, Jim wrapped his arms around him again and gently stroked his hair to sooth him. He did not dare to imagine how his little friend must feel. When the trembling ceased, he stood up again and bowed over the fountain to assess further options. Carefully, he knocked on the ice. It did not crack, but he guessed there was a chance to break it somehow.

Sniffling, Oswald tugged at his sleeve. As Jim looked down at him, he noticed the little rock the boy had just dug up from the snow.

“Oh, thanks. That might help.” 

With a satisfied nod, Oswald took out a tissue, blew his nose and resumed watching Jim’s endeavors.

After a few hits with the stone, the ice finally gave in and freezing water engulfed his hand. He tried to fish for the coins, but since he could hardly spot any underneath the shattered ice, he could only rely on his luck.

 

“Sir, what do you think you’re doing there?”  
The unfriendly voice of a woman made him draw his hand back and turn around. Two small children were standing next to her and a few others played in the snow not too far away. His best guess was that she was some sort of kindergarten teacher.

“Retrieving something lost, madam.” He tried to stay polite, although the woman greeted him with obvious disgust.

“I don’t think so. What if the children follow your example? It’s dangerous and irresponsible.”

“I assure you, the detective has very good reasons to search the premises, ma’am.” 

The woman looked at Oswald slightly irritated, before seizing Jim again.  
“Detective?”

“Yes, Detective Gordon, GCPD. If you let me do my work now, it would be much obliged.” With a stern look he flashed his badge. It felt silly to use it in this situation, but he had zero patience for the conceited gadfly.

“The boy looks funny!” One of the kids suddenly exclaimed.

Feeling obviously uncomfortable, Oswald grabbed the hem of Jim’s coat. He had dreaded something like this.

“Yeah, just like a penguin!” The children started laughing, and did not stop until their teacher was ushering them away, seemingly satisfied with Jim’s answer. At first it looked as if disaster had been averted, but then a snowball hit one of the children in the back. Another followed, hitting the other child’s head. They cried out more in surprise than pain and turned to face their assailant.

Oswald was just about to throw a third snowball, when Jim stepped in his way.  
“You really think that helps?” His voice was stern, but rather disappointed than angry.

“Offense is the best defense.” Oswald simply replied, dove around his legs and threw the snowball.

Jim knew he was probably not the best person to argue with that reasoning, but he somehow had to disarm the situation. Facing the teacher, he held his hand up and smiled apologetically, before kneeling down in front of the boy and taking the forth snowball out of his hands.

“Hey!” Little Oswald did not take kindly to the intrusion, grabbed another handful of snow and threw it straight into Jim’s face. 

Perplexed, he blinked and wiped the snow away. He opened his mouth to rebuke the boy, when he noticed that he was smiling, even chuckling a little at the sight of Jim’s face full of snow. Utterly relieved, he could not help but to return the smile. When he felt another handful of snow hitting him, it was his turn to cry out. Oswald had stepped away from him. He was grinning now, throwing the white flakes at him and dodging his friend’s attempts to catch him. Despite his injured leg, Oswald was surprisingly quick. How he managed to not lose his balance on the slippery ground, Jim could not tell, but it lifted his spirits to see the boy happy for once. It did not take long though until he caught him and they both landed in a pile of snow, laughing. 

 

After they had caught their breaths, Jim helped Oswald to get up and brushed the snow off the back of his coat. As much as the other children’s comments had hurt and reminded him of some of the most painful memories of his childhood, the little play fight with Jim had cheered him up immensely. And yet, his gaze slowly shifted back to the well. Much more lighthearted, but still feeling a certain sense of anticipation, he approached the rim and looked down into the dark water. The sliver of a coin suddenly caught his eye. Surely, it was just the lingering excitement, but he somehow knew it was worth another try. 

“Jim? Would you take another shot at this? I don’t know, but… please do.”

Bending over the rim, Jim just shrugged and reached out until his hand broke the dark surface. 

“You could as well try to win the lottery, Oswald.” He quipped with a sad but kind smile. His fingers, numbed by the icy cold, took hold of a few coins and he pulled it back. Slowly, he uncured his aching digits and they both looked down at his catch. The coins looked utterly unremarkable. Although Oswald could not remember how the coin he had thrown looked like, he had a hunch it had not been an average quarter.  
With a silent sigh, he turned away from the well, when the gleam he saw earlier made him stop. Irritated, he stared into the water.

“You want me to try again?” 

Jim put the coins onto the snowy rim and rubbed his hands together. He was greeted with a hesitant nod. 

“There. Can you see that?” Oswald was pointing at the spot where he had seen the shimmer. It could have been any coin, and he scolded himself for believing his intuition might lead him to find the right one. Jim however, obeyed and plunged his hand back into the water. After a few agonizing seconds, he drew it back and curiously looked at his palm. A single coin rested on his flushed skin. It was shiny silver and looked nothing like the American currency which was usually thrown into the well. Instead of a head or letters, a snowflake decorated the side that was visible to them. 

Suddenly, Oswald felt his heartbeat accelerating. Back then, he had examined the coin, but hardly put any thought into what he had found. He had just taken it for some random foreign currency, most likely left by tourists. With trembling fingers, he took it out of Jim’s hand and regarded it closely. It was odd, the other side did not show a number as expected, but the profile of a person unknown to him. Even though it seemed rather ordinary, the fact that neither side showed a number or letters struck him as peculiar.

“Don’t tell me that’s the one you were looking for.” Jim raised his eyebrows completely dumbfounded.

“Actually… yes. I think it is…”  
As he met his gaze, Oswald’s eyes lit up bright with hope. He had no idea how to proceed yet, but it had to have been a stroke of fate that Jim had grabbed the coin. Maybe, it would all be well again soon. Teary eyed, he pocketed the coin safely, hugged Jim’s legs and pushed his face into the soft fabric of his coat. 

“Thank you…”  
His voice was almost inaudible, but it made Jim smile nonetheless. He carefully lifted Oswald up and held him in a tight hug, letting the boy burry his face in his scarf.

“You’re very welcome.”

 

Jim could not quite place his feelings in that moment. He was relieved to see Oswald hopeful again and it warmed his heart to know he could help to make the desperate little boy happy, regardless of what kind of man he had been before. But there was something else. His heart was feeling unusually light and carefree. A feeling he rarely had, but sometimes with good friends like Harvey or lately also with Leslie, when a lighthearted conversation or a moment of trust and mutual understanding allowed him to forget the grim outlook he had on their lives in the city. It was something he only shared with genuine friends. And despite his strong reserve, seeing Oswald as a friend seemed more like a viable option now than it ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out another brilliant artwork that fits so well with the chapter. So much love for this, Selene!  
> http://gobblepot-art-and-ask-blog.tumblr.com/post/134852453993/you-asked-more-and-i-couldnt-resist-w#notes


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